


Shooting the Moon

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blow Jobs, Fae & Fairies, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Rescue, Sex Pollen, Swimming Pools, Tattoos, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: A collection of ficlets and prompt fills inspired by A Gun For Barns by Laridian.
Relationships: Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. What Am I?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Part One: A Gun For Barns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421935) by [laridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridian/pseuds/laridian). 



> I just keep getting more and more niche. At least I'm making my friends happy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment from early on in A Gun for Barns.

The problem was that there was a goldmine of practical knowledge tucked away in Gunnar's damaged head, and he couldn't access any of it before the instant it was referenced, and even then it came with pain and didn't always come in a complete form. He knew so much, and didn't know he knew most of it, and didn't know  _ how  _ he knew  _ any _ of it.

What had he been, before he'd been killed? A courier, he knew that, but that wasn't all. It couldn't be all. He knew too much for it to be that simple, even if he didn't know he knew it.

What kind of person had he been? All things considered, Gunnar liked the kind of person that he was now— the kind of person who gave a damn about other people. He just wished he knew how to help better than he currently did.


	2. What Arcade Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's a nosy Nelly. Arcade eavesdrops and gets the wrong impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place toward the end of [The Sign of the Ponix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819051)

If anyone had accused him of eavesdropping, Arcade would have protested vociferously, despite the fact that it was exactly what he was doing. Well, it wasn't like there was so much to entertain him in the suite, and whatever weird, highly emotional but apparently mostly passionless  _ thing _ was going on between Gunnar and Boone was both none of his business and took up far too much space in his head. It wasn't jealousy, he told himself, knowing it for a lie even as the thought crossed his mind. It was just that Gunnar was so affectionate sometimes, and... well, he was cute and dangerously intelligent and that made him exactly Arcade's type, and Boone didn't appreciate what he had, not the way Arcade would appreciate him. 

All of which was to say that he was not  _ earnestly _ attempting to listen through the walls to Gunnar and Boone's pillow talk, but then Gunnar cried out, and that was  _ definitely _ not a sound of pleasure, and Arcade reacted without thinking at all, which meant that he burst through the bedroom door to find his companions buck-naked and in a  _ very _ delicate position. "Stop hurting him!"

"Get  _ out, _ " Boone snapped, but he took both of his hands off of Gunnar's body, and Arcade only had eyes for Gunnar... who had the same vague look in his eyes that he did after being hit with another memory, except the rest of his face looked distinctly displeased as he clutched the blanket over himself.

"What the hell, Arcade?"

"I'm— whoo." Belatedly, Arcade dropped his gaze, trying to pretend his whole face hadn't gone red. "You screamed— I thought— I don't know what I thought. You sounded hurt."

"I'm not hurt," Gunnar said in disbelief. "I'm with Craig, I couldn't be safer than I am right now."

Arcade had opinions about that statement, but now was certainly not the time to voice them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just... carry on," he said awkwardly, backing out and pulling the door shut behind him.

Well, that was altogether more of Boone than Arcade had been interested in seeing... and not  _ quite  _ as much of Gunnar as he hoped to see. Arcade covered his face with both hands and sighed heavily... and then decided to go downstairs and have at least one drink, if not several of them.


	3. Fiery Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a wingfic prompt that I spontaneously added Pokemon to.

Most people who saw Gunnar assumed that he'd suffered some sort of terrible accident. As long as no one asked him directly what had happened to his wings, he didn't have to confess that he'd been born before the bombs dropped, before humans had mutated and wings had become commonplace. Most people were too polite to ask, and those who weren't polite were smart enough to not ask directly, and if Gunnar had any way to avoid answering, he'd take it. 

Boone had figured out the truth, or close enough to it. He'd assumed that Gunnar was a Vault dweller, a descendant, not a Vault inhabiter, the original article. He'd put up with Gunnar's obvious fascination with his wings even though Pidgeotto plumage was as common as the birds were, but even the gentlest pass of Gunnar's fingers over his feathers wasn't comfortable for Boone. Gunnar tried to not be offended by Boone's reactions, but when they called it quits, he wished he'd spent less time trying to convince himself that those reactions were something they'd get past with time and mutual affection. 

Arcade, on the other hand, wore his Talonflame wings with pride and absolutely loved and encouraged Gunnar's attention to them from the very first compliment. He was equally intrigued by Gunnar's lack of wings, and spent quite a while running his fingers over Gunnar's back the first night they spent together, tracing the blades of his shoulders and wondering aloud how two hundred years had changed humanity in such a definite and distinctive way. 

When Gunnar decided on an emblem for himself, he decided that he might as well choose a pair of wings that no human could wear. The sign of the Moltres blazed as a beacon to mark the headquarters of the new ruler of New Vegas.


	4. Absolution Doesn't Work Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gunnar makes a proposal. Arcade demands a better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably fits somewhere in [On the Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860230).

"I have a question for you, and I want you to think about it before you answer me," Gunnar said one night as they were getting ready for bed.

"Is this question going to keep me awake all night, or can you ask me in the morning?" Arcade asked, not entirely sure if he was making a joke or not given the look in Gunnar's eyes. 

"It might keep you up all night, but I have to ask it."

"All right, then ask." Arcade got into bed and fought against the urge to pull the blanket up to his chin like a little boy listening to a scary story, watching Gunnar move around the room restlessly. 

Finally, Gunnar sat on his side of the bed and reached for Arcade's hand. "If I could keep the NCR and Brotherhood from coming after you for your Enclave ties, but only if you openly pledged fealty to me as the new leader of New Vegas...."

"Oh," Arcade said, face falling slightly. "I don't think it'll work like that, Gunn. People don't forgive so easily."

"...what if I married you, though?"

"You could have lead with that, you jerk!" Arcade pulled his hand out of Gunnar's grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ask me properly."

Gunnar blinked twice and then moved to straddle Arcade's legs, holding out both hands in supplication. "Arcade Gannon, will you marry me?"

"Yes, but not for political reasons," Arcade said, unfolding his arms to take Gunnar's hands, and leaned up to kiss him. "Just because I love you."


	5. Pool Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer in New Vegas is no joke. Gunnar decides to throw a pool party for his entourage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fits somewhere in [On the Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860230).

Summer in New Vegas was no joke. Gunnar had fond, longing memories of air conditioning and soft ice cream twisted onto crisp cones and the feeling of water all around him... but he was in the enviable position of being able to book the pool at the Ultra-Luxe for a private event and haul his whole sweaty entourage into the cool, dim room and the crisp, clean water on a sweltering July afternoon.

Arcade wasn't much of a swimmer and didn't like to take his glasses off anyways; he sat on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water and watched Gunnar swim back and forth and appreciated the clarity of the view. Every so often, Gunnar bobbed up to the edge to put his wet hands on Arcade's knees and turn his face up for a kiss, and his lips tasted of saltwater when Arcade happily obliged him. 

The Grand High Poobah of New Vegas was too cute to resist with his red-gold hair plastered down against his head and a smile on his face, not that Arcade ever  _ wanted  _ to resist him, far from it, and  _ especially _ not when Gunnar was just wearing a pair of shorts to swim in. It wasn't like this was the first time Arcade had seen him all wet, but this was the  _ happiest _ he'd seen him wet, relieved from the heat and playful as all get-out, splashing around like he'd temporarily forgotten the weight of responsibility that lay heavy on his shoulders.

The door to the steam room kept tempting Arcade to glance over, but he couldn't whisk Gunnar into privacy without everyone else in the pool knowing just what his intents were. Not that anyone would really care. Not that Arcade really cared. If anyone else was around, yes, they'd have to care, but when it was just Gunnar and his closest companions, there was no reason for them to play it cool when Arcade was getting increasingly hot under the collar as he watched Gunnar climb out of the pool in those cute little shorts...

"Are you okay?" Gunnar asked, rubbing a towel over his hair as he came over to his visibly flushed boyfriend. "Are you sure you don't want to swim? You look overheated."

"I'm... fine," Arcade said, and had to make a real effort not to touch Gunnar anywhere inappropriate as he looked up into amused blue-green eyes. "Wet is a good look on you."

"You're not the first person to tell me that," Gunnar said, and looked off to the side for a moment, not his lost-in-memory gaze, just a moment of recollection that dimmed his smile for an instant. "I could stay here all day..."

"I don't think Marjorie will let us," Arcade pointed out, "she was snippy enough about us booking the pool for a couple of hours. And our time is drawing to a close, I think." He curled his fingers around Gunnar's ankle and added, "And I would very much like to get you home and alone."

"Would you, now," Gunnar said, and settled his hand on the back of Arcade's neck gently. 

"It's still awfully hot out."

"You could walk back to the 38 in these," Arcade suggested, tugging the hem of Gunnar's shorts between two fingers and grinning up at him. "Start a whole new trend."

"Supreme Leader En Flambe? But if I burn, I won't want you to touch me."

"Not even to rub aloe on you?"

"You can rub aloe on me without me getting charred first," Gunnar said. "In fact, I'd like you to."

" _ Would  _ you, now." 

"Get a room," Veronica said as she walked past them, dripping, on her way to grab a towel. 

"We've got a very nice one," Gunnar said, and ruffled Arcade's hair before turning to finish drying and get dressed. "So let's get back to it, shall we?"


	6. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gunnar comes back a little worse for the wear. Arcade makes sure he's not worse than he's letting on... then makes him feel considerably better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is smutty! Fits somewhere in [On the Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860230).

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Arcade said as soon as Gunnar walked into the suite, and came up to gently turn his face and inspect his newly blackened right eye. "And a sore eye of your own. Run into another door?"

"Ran into a fist," Gunnar said, tired but touched that one of his old-fashioned sayings had made it into Arcade's vocabulary. "You should  _ really _ see the other guy this time," he added, a hint of humor in his voice.

"How roughed up are you?"

"Are you asking as my doctor or my partner?" 

"I don't see why I can't multi-task."

"I'm all right," Gunnar said. Arcade studied his face for a moment before accepting it as truth and sealing his faith with a kiss. "I'm glad to be home," the weary leader breathed against his lover's lips. 

"I've been trying not to worry too much. You can handle yourself, I'm fully aware of that... But I wish you'd take human backup and not just Securitrons."

"You wouldn't have liked this one," Gunnar said, leaning down to unlace his boots and kick them off.

"I don't  _ like _ most of what we have to do, but it's no less necessary for my distaste," Arcade pointed out. "At least we're doing it with good intentions."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Gunnar said, and Arcade snorted.

"Paved roads? Don't get  _ too _ ambitous, we've only got so much to spend on infrastructure yet." He reached up to fix his glasses, and added thoughtfully, "If that were true, though, I think you could pave from New Vegas to California with only your own good intentions."

"And which end of that road is hell?" Gunnar asked in amusement.

"That depends entirely on who you're asking," Arcade said. "I, personally, think being with you is heavenly, but I'm sure there are those in the Mojave who think you're a red-headed Lucifer for sure."

"I prefer to think of myself as an avenging angel," Gunnar said.

Arcade laughed and leaned in to kiss him. "All right, angel, it looks like you've been wrestling in the desert overnight."

"But I didn't lose," Gunnar said. 

"You didn't make it out unscathed, either." Arcade's fingers tugged at Gunnar's shirt to pull it free of his pants. "And I'd like to look you over to make sure you're not worse hurt than you're letting on... like you usually are."

"Yes, Doctor." There was nothing reluctant about the way Gunnar let Arcade undress him, and he did a slow pirouette to let Arcade inspect his unblemished upper body with his lip caught between his teeth at the distinctly unclinical way Arcade looked him over. 

"Looking good, good looking," Arcade said playfully, one hand on Gunnar's chest to guide him back to the edge of their huge bed, but didn't push him down onto it. Instead, he began to kiss his way down Gunnar's chest, nuzzling against ginger hair on his leisurely route downward as he went to his knees.

"You're wonderful," Gunnar sighed, fingers carding through Arcade's hair gently. "Honestly wonderful."

"I try," Arcade said modestly, and then did an extremely immodest thing by only partially extracting Gunnar's cock from his pants and lowering his head to lick teasingly at just the head of it. Gunnar's breath escaped him in a rush, and he couldn't catch it again when Arcade was flickering the tip of his tongue against what very well might have been the most sensitive bit of Gunnar's body. If there was a  _ more _ sensitive spot, it certainly wasn't making itself known. 

" _ Please _ ," Gunnar said, and whimpered when Arcade shot a heavy-lidded glance up at him and took the whole tip between his lips. "Ohh, yes please."

It was a testament to Arcade's ardency that he  _ didn't _ pull off to say something, whether it would have been snarky or sweet; what he did do was pull Gunnar's pants further down to free him completely, and then swallow as much of Gunnar's cock as he could fit in his mouth. 

It was a good thing the bed was right behind Gunnar, because that move weakened his knees. He gasped and put his hands behind him to catch his fall, ending up propped on his elbows and watching Arcade's blond head bob between his thighs. "I love your smart mouth," he breathed. 

Arcade reached up to find his hand and lace their fingers together, not lifting his head from his task. At first, he'd performed the romantic little grace notes because he knew that Gunnar was a hopeless romantic; somewhere along the line Arcade found himself equally heart-struck by those tiny expressions of love around the edges of the more obvious expressions. He hadn't expected to be turned into a hopeless romantic too, but it was  _ so _ satisfying to hear Gunnar gasp, "I love you," as he was overcome with pleasure and fell back against the bed.

"Love you too," Arcade said as he lifted his head, swiped his thumb under his lips, and sucked it clean with a smirk. "I suppose we should finish taking these clothes off you."

"You do it... I'm boneless," Gunnar said breathlessly, tossing a hand over his eyes dramatically. "You've undone me."

"I'm in the process of undoing you," Arcade said, tugging Gunnar's pants the rest of the way off his legs. "And then I can do you back up," he added flirtatiously.

"You can do what you want with me," Gunnar said, peeking at Arcade from under his wrist. "Just be nice."

"I wouldn't dream of being anything  _ but  _ to you," Arcade said, and even though the words weren't  _ I love you  _ again that was clearly what he meant by them.


	7. That Look In His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcade thinks Gunnar is zoning out into a memory. He's not correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fits somewhere around [On the Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860230).

"—so that's not at full efficiency yet, but they're getting there," Arcade said, and then realized that Gunnar hadn't blinked in a suspiciously long time. He had his head propped on one hand, and Arcade had  _ thought _ he'd been listening intently, but that very well might have been the fugue look that meant Gunnar was very, very far away. "Gunnar? Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Gunnar said, blue-green eyes not wavering from where he'd been studying Arcade's face as the man went on enthusiastically about another of their projects to make the city better. "I must have been lost in thought."

"Not memory?" 

"Believe me, Arcade, I'm entirely aware that it's you I'm looking at right now." 

Arcade tried to hide his uncontrollable smile by pushing his glasses up his nose, but he was still beaming at full strength when he met Gunnar's steady gaze again. "Good. I'm one of a kind," he said with false bravado, but Gunnar reached across the table for his hand and beamed right back at him.

"Yes. You are."


	8. Under the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate take on how Gunnar might have ended up two hundred years removed from his own time.

Gunnar couldn't remember how he'd ended up under the hill, which was strange, because it didn't feel like he was there all that long. He thought of a camping trip, maybe, and a lover, or perhaps two... The pale mark on his finger where a ring used to rest disappeared with the lack of sun, until he was that pale all over, and wasn't positive whether he ever hadn't been. 

When the fae had their fill of him, had taken all the amusement they could, they left him on the hillside in a blasted landscape he'd never seen before. Surely this wasteland hadn't been the world he'd come from. He remembered... glass, and concrete, and trees, and grass, and people...

He didn't find people for a while. He found concrete, the cracked remnants of a road that hadn't been traversed in what looked like decades if not centuries, and he picked a direction and started walking. 

The fae hadn't been particularly kind to him. Gunnar had a feeling that his life was about to get much less kind than that.


	9. Don't Try This at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "sex pollen", although it's more "accidental re-invention of boner pills" than actual sex pollen. Rated Explicit.

"Oh, _no,_ " Arcade said. Gunnar looked over, alarmed, to find the blond looking down at the arm he'd just attached his newest iteration of makeshift stimpak to, which was looking awfully sweaty mere seconds afterwards. "I fucked up."

"How badly?" Gunnar asked, coming over to inspect Arcade's arm, which prickled with goosebumps the instant his fingers made contact. 

"I'm thinking possibly very badly," Arcade said, worry clear in his eyes as his face started to flush. "Possibly... the worst badly."

"Do you feel like you're dying?" If he'd been less worried, Gunnar might have said, _I told you not to use that fleshy flower_ , but it was no time for told-you-so's when Arcade was in danger. "Describe it."

"Racing heart," Arcade said, pressing his opposite hand to his chest and closing his eyes to count for fifteen seconds. "148 beats per minute. Sweating, where I'd been a bit chilly a few minutes ago."

Gunnar pressed his hand to Arcade's forehead, then brushed his hair back gently. "Your temperature is elevated. Whatever you made, it's working fast. Any other symptoms?"

"My skin... I can feel all of it," Arcade said, closing his hand around Gunnar's wrist to move Gunnar's hand to his cheek instead. "Your hand feels good," he murmured, turning his face into the touch. Gunnar put his other hand on Arcade's other cheek and peered into his eyes to find his pupils blown out so there was barely any green visible. 

"Are you in pain?"

"No... discomfort, but not pain," Arcade said. "And not discomfort, where your hands are." Curiously, Gunnar slid one hand down to touch Arcade's throat, startled when the move pulled a whimper from him. "Please keep touching me?"

"Of course I will," Gunnar said, but he took a step back first, looking Arcade up and down to find a symptom he hadn't mentioned: a noticeable erection straining the front of his pants. Something started turning over in the back of Gunnar's mind, something from before the Vault, but it wasn't quite coming to the forefront and it wasn't important enough to leave his poor partner hanging when Gunnar could ease his discomfort. Something about a little blue pill? 

Arcade unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, but Gunnar easily took over unbuttoning the rest of it, easing Arcade out of his clothes and skimming fingertips over flushed, sweaty skin. "Oh," Arcade said when Gunnar's thumb brushed his peaked nipple and sent a shiver through his whole body. "Oh, um... this is _very_ unusual." He settled his hands on Gunnar's hips and wet his lips without thinking about either thing.

"I don't think you're dying," Gunnar said, putting his hand flat over Arcade's heart to feel it pounding frantically, then moving it slowly down his chest to press against his arousal. "I think you're suffering a side effect and you'll be all right after a while." 

"I hope you're right," Arcade said, totally unable to keep himself from leaning into Gunnar's touch. When Gunnar slid his hand into Arcade's pants, he added with a hint of humor, "because if I _am_ dying, this is going to be the saddest hand job either of us has participated in. Oh, how does your hand feel like an oasis in the middle of the Mojave?"

"I'm a miracle worker," Gunnar said dryly, earning himself a gulped laugh from Arcade as Gunnar worked open his pants to free his cock. "Take your pants off and get on the bed."

"Yes, sir," Arcade gasped, moving to do as he was told eagerly. 

Gunnar paused in undressing himself to watch Arcade bend over to take his pants off, then gave himself a little shake and kept going. If his hands felt good against Arcade's skin, then the rest of their skin in contact would probably feel good too, right? Made sense to him, anyways. When he turned to the bed, he found Arcade watching him with wide eyes and a half-open mouth, and gently reached up to remove Arcade's glasses and set them aside.

"You're gorgeous," Arcade said, pulling Gunnar close enough that he didn't need the glasses to clearly see his face. "Just, absolutely gorgeous."

"Flattery is unnecessary," Gunnar said, settling himself astride Arcade's legs and leaning over him with hands pressing Arcade's shoulders back into the bed, but the compliment made him smile. He could feel the unusual heat of Arcade's skin everywhere they touched, and he moved to make _everywhere they touched_ into as much skin as possible.

"Flattery nothing. I love you and I'm lucky to have you and I want to tell you that you're amazing," Arcade said as Gunnar stretched out on top of him, immediately wrapping his arms around Gunnar and tucking his face into the bend of Gunnar's neck. "You feel so good against me," he mumbled into Gunnar's skin.

"Good," Gunnar said, and curled a hand under the sweaty nape of Arcade's neck. "I love you too. And I want you to feel better."

"I feel _much_ better underneath you," Arcade admitted, and kissed Gunnar's throat. "But I always do. Even when I'm not drugged on god knows what I accidentally created."

"I think you might have discovered a vasodilator," Gunnar said, as the thought in the back of his mind clicked into place: Viagra, that was what that medicine had been. That class of drugs opened the blood vessels... that would account for the flushing, the increased heart rate, and the very insistent erection currently pressed against Gunnar's burgeoning one. "That could be useful in the future."

"I'm more concerned about the present," Arcade said, trying and failing not to thrust up against Gunnar, then throwing decorum to the wind and reaching down to squeeze Gunnar's ass and pull them more tightly together. "You're _sure_ I'm not going to die?"

"You're definitely not going to die," Gunnar affirmed. "Back in my day, that type of drug was used to treat impotence... which is not a problem you suffered from."

"Medically induced erections," Arcade said. "Weird." 

"Technically, that was the side effect of the drug," Gunnar said.

"Well, I certainly don't need to medically induce erections with you, but now that the situation's in place..."

"How would you like to resolve it?" 

"Put your hand around me, please?" Arcade shivered and gasped when Gunnar did as he asked, then reached down to take Gunnar in hand in return. They'd done this enough to know how the other preferred to be handled: Gunnar liked a soft touch, lots of fingertip caresses up and down his length, while Arcade preferred to be handled more firmly with a tight grip and a twist to the wrist at the tip. "Oh, you're brilliant," Arcade sighed, letting his head fall back against the bed. 

Gunnar couldn't help but kiss him, and then kiss him again, swallowing all of Arcade's little whimpers as Gunnar brought him up to the edge and then pushed him over it, making even more of a mess out of his sweaty body as he went boneless underneath Gunnar. "There you go," Gunnar breathed, and gave him one more kiss before rolling off and settling himself against Arcade's side.

"Mmmph," Arcade said, one nerveless hand patting uselessly at Gunnar's hip. "Oh. Ohh."

"Just relax," Gunnar said, catching his hand and holding it. "See if you feel any better." He watched as Arcade caught his breath, checking if his flushed skin would subside back to pale, which it did after a couple of minutes.

"I shouldn't.... hmm. I shouldn't test drugs on myself, but it went so well this time," Arcade murmured. Playfully, Gunnar smacked the back of his hand against Arcade's chest.

"Don't take that as license for continued self-experimentation."

"If you say so," Arcade said, and reached for Gunnar with a smile that looked more like himself. "But it _did_ turn out okay."

"This time," Gunnar said, and his breath caught in his throat when Arcade teased him in that way he especially liked. "I don't... don't want to lose you to... some stupid desert plant."

"You're not going to lose me," Arcade promised. "I'm going to stay right here by your side." 

"You'd better," Gunnar said, and let himself believe the promise.


	10. Careful Handling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Rescue". Implied sexual assault and ensuing trauma.

Arcade didn't say a thing on their way back to New Vegas from Caesar's camp. Not saying much, Gunnar would have understood, but not saying a single word? Something bad had happened to him, beyond being kidnapped and locked in one of those horrible collars and smacked around enough to result in the bruises Gunnar could see and the ones that were undoubtedly under his clothes.

Gunnar didn't try to get him to talk, just offered his hand and held on tight when Arcade clutched it like a lifeline as they walked home.

As soon as the door to their suite closed behind them, Arcade let his head fall forward, breathed in deeply, and lifted it again to meet Gunnar's eyes. "Thank you for coming to get me." His voice was hoarse and uneven.

"Of course I came to get you," Gunnar said, and reached up to brush his fingers against Arcade's unbruised cheek. Arcade flinched away and then deliberately leaned into the touch, a look of disgust crossing his face at his instincts being corrupted like that. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it yet," Arcade said. "I just... want a shower and a meal and a little time to put my thoughts in order first, please."

"All right," Gunnar said. "Do you want me around for any part of that process?"

"At least the first two parts."

"You want me to join you in the shower?" Gunnar couldn't hide his surprise.

"I'd appreciate a reminder that I'm not..." Arcade looked down at his hands, and Gunnar noticed the rope marks on his wrists with a nauseous swoop of his stomach. "...not ruined," Arcade finished his sentence very faintly. 

"You're _not_ ruined," Gunnar said firmly. "You don't have to prove that to me."

"I need _you_ to prove it to _me_ , Gunn," Arcade said, reaching up to push his glasses up his nose and leaving his hand in front of his face, not meeting Gunnar's eyes. "Please. Because I feel... like I don't deserve to be touched by you again."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do to make you feel better," Gunnar said, without a second's hesitation. "Nothing that's been done to you has anything to do at all with what you're worth, Arcade, I promise you that."

"I'm afraid that making me feel better isn't going to be simple," Arcade admitted.

"Nothing we do is simple," Gunnar said gently. "But we're doing difficult things to make the world a better place. And I'm hardly going to leave the man I love in a terrible state without doing everything I can, simple or complex, momentary or sustained, to make him feel like himself again." Arcade met his eyes then, and Gunnar offered him both his hands, and smiled slightly when he took them. "You're worth the work, okay? You're worth whatever it takes. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Arcade said, blinking back tears. "I'm... sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Gunnar said firmly, and lifted their hands so he could kiss Arcade's knuckles. "Let's see about what we can do to help you right now, okay? Let's go take that shower. I'll wash your hair for you."

"All right," Arcade said, and let himself be pulled along to the bathroom, feeling fragile and on the verge of shattering, but sure that if anyone could be gentle enough to him, it would be Gunnar.


	11. Showing Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "vampires"

"Where have you _been?_?" Arcade asked when Gunnar walked in well after midnight. "You said you'd be back before nightfall."

"I'm sorry," Gunnar said wearily, walking past his partner to sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. "It's... it's been a long day."

"You're telling me, I've been worried about you for six hours!" Arcade's annoyance softened as he came closer and clocked how unusually pale Gunnar looked. Gently, he put his fingers against Gunnar's forehead, and then sucked a breath through his teeth. "You're pale as a ghost and freezing. What happened to you?" 

"I..." Gunnar licked his lips nervously and reached up to catch Arcade's hand and move it to his cheek. "I was... attacked by something... I don't know what it was. It bit me. I shot it, and it, some of its blood got in my eyes, and..." Arcade's wrist was _right there._ Gunnar couldn't help pressing his lips to the inside of it. His teeth itched like crazy and everything in him urged him to bite, but he kept his lips pressed firmly together. 

"You're probably infected with something," Arcade said. "We've got to get you to the Followers. Maybe someone knows about what's happening to you."

Just a little nibble, Gunnar thought. Just one little nip. Just a graze of his teeth against Arcade's wrist, right where he could see the blue veins through his skin. He wanted it so badly, but Arcade moved his hand, running his fingers through Gunnar's hair. 

"Do you want dinner? You must be starving."

He _was_ starving, but Gunnar didn't want food. He wanted _Arcade_ , the warmth of his skin, the grace of his fingers, the essence of him beating through his veins. He shook his head, then let himself fall back on the bed, arms spread, wondering what to say. _Get away from me. I don't want to hurt you. I want you near me. I want to devour you. Run while you can._

"I just need to rest," Gunnar said faintly. "We'll go to the Followers first thing in the morning."

"All right," Arcade said, and knelt to start working off Gunnar's boots. "We can both use the sleep."

"I'm so tired." 

"Well, you are the hardest working man in the Mojave. I'd say you've earned your rest." Setting Gunnar's boots aside, Arcade caught his feet and shifted him fully onto the bed, then leaned over him, worry in his eyes. "Can I get you anything?" 

"Just yourself," Gunnar said. He doubted whether he would get any rest tonight, but one way or another, he didn't want to give up this chance, possibly his last, to spend a night with Arcade in his arms. _Please, please, please, don't let me hurt him,_ he thought, and curled into the warmth of Arcade's body when he settled next to Gunnar on the bed. 


	12. Shelter from the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt table: "GFB, After Dark, There Was Only One Bed, Default, Burn"

With a grunt, Arcade let Gunnar down on the rickety bed in the shack as gently as he could before going back to close the door and bar it as best he could against what was coming. At least they'd found shelter; there had been no structure within eyeshot when Gunnar got bitten by... whatever had taken a chunk out of his leg. Neither of them had seen it. They'd been too focused on the lurid glow of a radstorm blowing in on the horizon. 

The storm reached the shack only about a minute after they did. The wind made it hard for Arcade to judge what was Gunnar's labored breath and what was nature trying to murder them both sooner, but he could feel Gunnar's thready pulse under his fingertips, the sweat lining his burning brow, and he swore under his breath as he dug through his pack for everything he had that might possibly help.

"Gunn? You with me?" Arcade couldn't keep the fear out of his voice. If he was lucky, the wind would sand down the rough edges and leave Gunnar with the impression that he was totally in control and not trying to keep himself from screaming. 

"Yeah..." The answer came from the motion of Gunnar's lips; his voice was nowhere to be found. He wrapped his fingers in Arcade's lab coat as soon as he came within range, grip weak but determined. 

"All right, good. Can't speak? That's a clue." Arcade sorted through the vials with a frantic furrow in his brow, tucking two back into the bag, and held up the last two, one in each hand. "Okay. These _probably_ shouldn't adversely interact," he said, and loaded one into a syringe. Gunnar's eyes widened, but he didn't flinch at the pinch of the needle into his leg. "One more... all right, let's see to that bite now." It wasn't a large bite, but it had gone straight through Gunnar's pant leg, and it was still bleeding freely. "Don't worry, Ponix, this one shouldn't send you into ashes," he said, trying to make Gunnar smile while he attached the stimpak to his leg. 

Gunnar just huffed, a caught breath that could have been a laugh or a gasp or anything at all. He tapped at Arcade's shoulder, and when he glanced up over the rim of his glasses, Gunnar mouthed, _I'm not worried, I have you_. 

"Yeah, you do." Gently nudging Gunnar over on the bed, Arcade sat on the edge and wrapped his fingers around Gunnar's wrist, first to take his pulse, then just to touch him, drawing small circles with his thumb over the sweaty skin. "You might burn, but I won't let you burn up."

The wind howled, and Arcade was glad for the noise to cover up his exhausted sigh. He wasn't going to get any sleep until he was sure that Gunnar was out of the woods, but the bed was the only furniture in the shack, so this was where he was going to sit and watch the flush drain from Gunnar's cheeks. Usually they'd talk, but Gunnar couldn't and Arcade couldn't for the life of him think of anything to say that was more reassuring than that gentle sweep of his thumb.


	13. What I'd Do to Get Back to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt table: "GFB, Confession, Smut, Writer's Choice, Obsessive"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit. Written during part 6, but set at some point the story hasn't reached yet.

"You know, I really should tell you..." Arcade's words cut off into a gasp, and he curled a hand around Gunnar's wrist to hold him still. "Gunn, wait..."

"Tell me later," Gunnar sighed, lips pressed to mussed blond hair. He knew, logically, that it hadn't actually been two centuries since the last time he'd had Arcade in his arms, but between the loneliness of their forced separation and the sheer chaos of the war it felt like a lifetime had passed in a matter of months. All he wanted was the comfort of their closeness without having to spare a thought for anything beyond their embrace for as long of a moment as he could steal, but Arcade wouldn't try to stop him for something unimportant; after a second he sighed again and pulled back to meet Arcade's eyes. "You should tell me what?"

"Less than an hour ago I was half sure I'd die without getting to hold you again," Arcade said, and relaxed his grip on Gunnar's wrist, eyes going heavy-lidded when Gunnar immediately resumed what he'd been doing. "And the closer I thought I was to dying, the more I kept thinking of all the things I'd never get to do with you again."

"I don't want to distract you at a time like that," Gunnar said, doing his level best to distract Arcade now with eloquent fingers. 

"No, it was very motivating. I _had_ to live. As soon as I realized what I was willing to do to get back to you, there was no room left for fear." _That_ got Gunnar to pause, studying Arcade's face and the fierce tone of his voice that left Gunnar breathless.

"What was the most motivating to think about?" Gunnar knew better than to ask _what were you willing to do_ when he'd peeled off Arcade's bloodstained clothes and found that almost none of the blood was his. There'd be time enough for those questions later. 

In lieu of an answer, Arcade rolled onto his back and pulled Gunnar on top of him, one hand coming up to card through red-gold hair as he leaned up to take the hungry kiss he'd survived the battle mostly to get to have again. His lips were dry and cracked and tasted faintly of blood, and Gunnar's weren't in much better shape, but that didn't prevent the kiss from feeling like home to both of them, tattered at the edges but still tender. 

All the myriad complaints of Gunnar's battered body faded into a sigh as he settled himself between Arcade's legs and bent to kiss him back, both soothed and roused by the warmth of his lover's embrace. "Missed you so much," he mumbled against Arcade's lips, then kissed across the scruff on his cheek to say it again into his ear, "god, I missed you..."

"Let's not do that again," Arcade said, doing a credible impression of an octopus to pull Gunnar closer. Their hips came into alignment and a soft yearning sound broke from his throat. "Please, Gunnar, don't send me away from you again."

That wasn't a promise Gunnar could make, not yet, but he desperately wished he could. He certainly had no intention of letting Arcade out of his sight any time soon... or, more to the point, out of his reach. There was a scratch down the side of Arcade's neck that Gunnar followed with his lips, and Arcade's head tilted to give him better access, shivering at the open-mouthed kisses Gunnar freckled across his skin. Before Arcade could repeat his plea, Gunnar slid a hand between them to stroke them together, a resoundingly effective ploy to make them both lose track of what they'd been saying.

"Mm, yes..." Two hands were better than one; Arcade's fingers curled around Gunnar's to tighten his grip around them and drag a sigh from both of them. "Ohh. Yeah, like that." It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but exactly what he wanted would be better in their own cozy bed in the 38 and not in a tent barely out of earshot of the battlefield. He was wound tight already, anyways, and as he careened toward the end Arcade had the sense to stifle his cry into the bend of Gunnar's neck, trembling under the touch he'd spent so long wishing to feel again.

"There you go. Beautiful." Gunnar pressed his nose into Arcade's hair and breathed in, gunsmoke and coppery blood and the tang of ozone, but his breath caught in his throat when Arcade nudged Gunnar's fingers away and took hold of him in a slightly shaky, slippery hand. "Ah..."

"When we get back to Vegas..." Arcade had fully intended on elaborating, but between the tight curl of his fingers, the lust-drunk rumble of his voice, and the sheer amount of promise packed into those words, Gunnar's mind leapt to agreeable conclusions with lightning speed and left him gasping into the warzone scent clinging in Arcade's hair at his peak. "...to be continued, I guess," he said, sounding smug about it.

"With all haste," Gunnar said breathlessly.


	14. A Little Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt table: "GFB, Writer's Choice, Smut, Default, Mystery"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit. No real specific place in the story.

"W-what are you doing?" The catch in Gunnar's voice was just adorable, Arcade thought, and did it again, gently stroking the feather against the side of Gunnar's neck.

"Do you want me to tell you?" He dragged the tip of the feather under Gunnar's chin and smiled when Gunnar tilted his head back obediently. "I thought you enjoyed the mystery. I thought that was the point of the blindfold." As startled as he'd been by Gunnar's request, Arcade had to admit that he very much liked the situation they were in now: the handsome Ponix clad only in a strip of bright blue cloth that made his hair burn even brighter around it, splayed over their bed and shivering with anticipation for the next touch.

"Nnnno, don't tell me." When Arcade moved the feather down to Gunnar's ribs, he twitched and added, "but don't _tickle_ me either!"

"I'm not tickling you," Arcade said. "Believe me, you'd know if I were."

"Can you just..."

"Whatever you want, Gunnar, you know that. Just say it."

"I was hoping you'd make me feel things with your hands, not with props," Gunnar said, and gasped when Arcade immediately settled his hands on Gunnar's hips with a touch verging on possessive. "Yes..."

"Only my hands?" Arcade asked playfully, and blew a cool breath over one nipple that made Gunnar's breath stutter. "And here I was planning on getting creative..."

"You can use whatever part of your body you want, just not a damn feather," Gunnar said, and Arcade laughed and lowered his head to lick instead, earning himself a lovely whimper as Gunnar's nipple pebbled under his tongue.

"Any other last-minute rules of engagement?" Amusement warred with need in Arcade's voice, and Gunnar shivered again.

"Just be good to me."

"I wouldn't dream of being anything but," Arcade promised, wondering just how long he could keep Gunnar guessing, or how long he could bear to have those lovely eyes covered when he adored so much the way Gunnar looked at him in bed, pleasure-dazed and meltingly sweet.


	15. Whose Nightmare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set fairly early on.

Boone woke soaked in sweat and trembling. His first conscious thought was _please let Gunnar still be asleep_. Of course, that wasn't the case; when he looked over, it was to find himself being studied by steady, knowing eyes.

"Another nightmare?" Gunnar said gently. Boone replied with a huff and dragged his sleeve over his damp forehead, changing his wish to _please don't let Gunnar want to talk about it._ "Do you want to talk about it?" _Fuck._

"No," Boone said shortly. 

Gunnar just nodded, like that was what he'd expected. "Do you want a hug?"

"...no," Boone said, but he had to give it a moment's thought. 

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Is this _my_ nightmare, and all you can ever say is no?"

"...no," Boone said, with a ghost of a smile. 

Gunnar wrinkled his nose playfully and reached over to brush his fingers over Boone's sweat-limned temple. "Is there anything at all you'll let me do to help you?"

"Tell me a history," Boone said.

"A history," Gunnar repeated, and smiled. "Sure. I'll tell you a history."


	16. All I Have Left Of Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Season of Kink prompt "tattoos"

The first time Arcade asked Gunnar about his tattoo, Gunnar had no idea what he was talking about. Arcade traced the shape of it, fingers skimming between Gunnar's shoulder blades, marveling at the crisp lines and bright color marking the pale skin of his back. "Two birds," Arcade said. "A dove and a crow. And a snake wound around their feet, green and gold."

"Sounds pretty," Gunnar said, with no recognition whatsoever.

It wasn't the first thing on Arcade's mind to ask about, once Gunnar got his memories back. It wasn't even top ten. But his fingers had gotten in the habit of tracing it any time Gunnar's bare back was in reach, the sharp beaks and curved wings and the sinuous winding form of the snake, and the next time they mapped the lines of his tattoo, Gunnar stiffened, shoulders going back like he was squaring up for a fight.

"Oh," he said, very quietly.

"Gunn?" Arcade froze when Gunnar shifted so suddenly, and he let his hand fall. "What is it?"

"It's..." Gunnar made a sound that Arcade couldn't distinguish between a laugh or a sob. "Ah. It's all I have left of them now." 

"Of..."

"My partners," Gunnar said. 

"Which one are you supposed to be?"

"What do you think?"

"Not the crow..."

"It's a raven."

"And definitely not the snake. Funny, I wouldn't think of you as a dove, either."

"No?"

"Of course not. Doves are meek little things. You're the Ponix aflame. There's nothing meek about you."

"I used to be a peacemaker," Gunnar said. 

"You still are a peacemaker," Arcade said firmly, and leaned in to press his lips to Gunnar's shoulder. "But now you're enforcing the peace you make. And I'm afraid you'll have to keep doing so for quite a while."

"The rest of my life," Gunnar said ruefully. "However long that might be."

"Well..." Arcade kissed his other shoulder. "I'm not a snake or a raven and I have no idea what I might be, but whatever I am, I'm at your side for as long as you'll have me there."

"I don't want you anywhere else," Gunnar said, and turned to catch Arcade's lips and end the conversation before Arcade got it in his head to ask Gunnar what he thought would best represent him.


	17. The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," Gunnar said in a thoughtful tone, inspecting the device Arcade was tinkering with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted with [this Fallout tarot card](https://64.media.tumblr.com/24425a49985829c75987931d1a114e57/tumblr_pluwhauxyH1xjz9yio2_r1_1280.png).

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," Gunnar said in a thoughtful tone, inspecting the device Arcade was tinkering with.

"I don't think I'm there yet," Arcade said dryly. "First I have to make it do the thing."

"And what is _the thing_?"

"Toxin detection," Arcade said. "Since you don't like having a poison-taster." He carefully dripped a solution into the device with a pipette, then took a fragment of something Gunnar never would have considered food in his prior life and dropped it in. "Okay, so it should turn..."

"Bright pink?" Gunnar asked.

"It was not supposed to turn bright pink regardless of results," Arcade sighed. "It's supposed to be blue if it's safe and yellow if it's not."

"Maybe it turns pink if it's not meant to be eaten whether it's poison or not," Gunnar said. 

"I thought you liked scorpion," Arcade protested.


	18. City Planning and Other Things to Do on a Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-series, NSFW. Arcade wants to help Gunnar with building New Vegas into the shining city Gunnar wants it to be, but he keeps getting distracted. Gunnar distracts him more thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "anal sex, bent over a desk", so... here's that!

Arcade pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh before flattening his hands on the desk to either side of the map he'd been studying for the past hour without any real insight as to how to fix the major logistical problem it indicated. He'd been alternating between scowling at the map and pacing around in front of the desk, mind spinning in useless circles he couldn't seem to break free from.

"You seem distraught," Gunnar said, settling one hand low on Arcade's back and making him jump with surprise.

"Sheesh, Gunn, sneak up on me, why don't you..."

"Didn't mean to scare you," Gunnar said, and slid his arms around Arcade's waist, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the map with him. "Oh. Yeah, we really have to get this figured out before we can make any progress, huh?"

"I'm sure not getting anywhere with it," Arcade admitted. "My brain is off doing its own thing and ignoring what I need it for."

"Hm... maybe you need a break." Gunnar slid his hands into Arcade's pockets and tugged him back into Gunnar's steady body. "Reset that poor overworked brain of yours."

"Thought you needed me on task," Arcade murmured, but he relaxed back against Gunnar immediately, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder.

"I have a different task for you," Gunnar breathed in a tone that promised things were about to get good, and played his fingers against Arcade's hips in something not quite a tickle and not quite a caress.

"Yes _sir_ ," Arcade said, "you know I'm yours to command." He gave a little wiggle and tried not to laugh at the proof that the Ponix had come in with impure intentions.

"Mm..." Gunnar's fingers started to work open Arcade's pants, reaching in to palm his wakening cock. "You look really good leaning over the desk like that, you know. You always do, it's very distracting sometimes."

"I don't mind shaking your focus a little," Arcade said, more breathy than he meant to sound. "And it's not like we haven't... ah, haven't always been all worked up by each other's displays of... of competence." Damn, Gunnar was _so_ good with his hands. "But if we're going to mess around on the desk we'd better move the map," he added hastily, suddenly thinking about trying to explain mysterious stains on the city planning map once they had something to show to the rest of the team.

"Good call," Gunnar said, and made no move to remove his hands from Arcade's body. Arcade quickly rolled up the map and then planted both hands on the desk, the better to arch back into Gunnar's frame. "Have you thought about this too? Because I have _absolutely_ fantasized about taking you over this desk on multiple occasions."

"The details varied but the end result was the same," Arcade said, and slid both hands forward, leaving himself bent over and at Gunnar's endless mercy. "You can have me however you want me." 

"Careful what you promise," Gunnar purred, leaning over Arcade with his arousal pressed tight against Arcade's ass. "Because 'however I want you' is 'for the rest of our lives'."

"I said what I said," Arcade said, glad that he was already putting most of his weight on the desk when his knees went wobbly at Gunnar's passionate tone. "I'm all yours, Gunnar. Have been for a while now. Will be until I can't be anybody's any more."

"I love you so much," Gunnar said, and kissed the back of Arcade's neck before moving back far enough to pull Arcade's pants down and squeeze his butt with both hands. "You're just... gorgeous."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere you aren't already welcomed," Arcade laughed, and wiggled his hips a little while he waited for Gunnar to cover him again. He wasn't expecting the love bite to his left cheek, but he sure wasn't going to complain about being nibbled on while Gunnar's fingers pressed into him. "C'mon," he urged, "I don't need much prep, just..."

"Impatient," Gunnar said, and bit him again on the other side before removing both teeth and fingers from Arcade's body. "Can't blame you," he added in a voice full of heat. He gently tapped Arcade's foot with his until Arcade spread his legs wider, then stepped in and teased Arcade with the tip of his cock. "Want it?"

" _Yes_ ," Arcade said desperately, and then, again, in a drawn-out sigh as Gunnar pressed into him, "ohhhh, yes...."

"You feel like heaven," Gunnar breathed as his hips came flush with Arcade's ass. "You feel like _home._ "

"Mm, mm-hmm..." Words were out of Arcade's reach at the moment, and his hand was clumsy as he reached behind himself to stroke Gunnar's hair where Gunnar had his face pressed between Arcade's shoulder blades. "Ahhh..." He was never going to be able to work at this desk again without remembering the perfect ache of Gunnar filling him up. Arcade wasn't sure if that would be more of a distraction or a motivation. 

Their afternoon delight didn't last long: Gunnar had already been worked up before he came to divert Arcade from his city planning, and he knew just how to touch Arcade to drag him over the edge with him. Elbows wobbly, Arcade barely managed to keep himself above the mess he made of the desk before Gunnar tugged him upright and into a tight embrace. 

"Love you," Gunnar breathed into Arcade's ear. "Endlessly."

"Endlessly," Arcade echoed in a dreamy tone. "Love you too." Once the afterglow faded, he had a feeling his mind would be sharper, and maybe between the two of them they could figure out how to solve this thorny problem. There wasn't a problem that they couldn't solve if they faced it together, after all.


	19. Protecting the Ponix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-series, genderbend. Arcadia knows why Gunna doesn't like touching her hair any more, but that doesn't mean she can't miss it. But it's okay. It's her turn to be the strong one now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet has a soundtrack: [In Repair, by Our Lady Peace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kve68FFRjtA)

Arcadia understood why Gunna didn't want to play with her hair any more— spending any amount of time holding a severed head by the hair would turn any person of conscience queasy on it for a while— but that didn't mean she couldn't miss the feeling of those careful fingers combing through her hair, or just the comforting weight of Gunna's hand on the back of her head when Arcadia cuddled up to fall asleep together with her head on Gunna's shoulder. What she missed wasn't particularly relevant as long as the Ponix of New Vegas was suffering the effects of burning her signal flare at both ends; the important thing was that Gunna got everything she needed to recover from an ordeal she had clawed her way through with bloody nails both literal and figurative. 

It was Arcadia's turn to be the strong one, the solid foundation and unassailable walls guarding everything she had helped Gunna build, the engine keeping the machine of New Vegas humming along while its most vital part was in repair. She spent her days on the sticky business of city-building and her nights holding the nightmare-stricken winner of the city, brushing sweaty ginger hair back from Gunna's brow before shaking her out of the memories she couldn't stop reliving.

"Arcadia..." Every time Gunna opened her eyes onto her lover's face, her name escaped in a broken gasp; until that happened she would thrash and flail, fighting a battle that had taken every scrap of her effort to win the first time.

"I've got you, I've got you." Arcadia wasn't a fanciful woman most of the time, but every time she pressed her lips to Gunna's brow Arcadia couldn't help but wish that just this once, all those fairy tales about true love's kiss would work a miracle and lift the crushing burden of Gunna's memories.


End file.
